O Faith! thou work­est mi­ra­cles
Upon the hearts of men,
Choosing thy home in those same hearts
We know not how or when.
To one thy grave un­earth­ly truths
A heav’n­ly vi­sion seem
While to an­oth­er’s eye they are
A su­per­sti­tious dream.

To one the deep­est doc­trines look
So na­tur­al­ly true,
That when he learns the les­son first
He hard­ly thinks it new.
To oth­er hearts the self­same truths
No light or heat can bring;
They are but puz­zling phras­es strung
Like beads up­on a string.

O gift of gifts! O grace of faith!
My God! how can it be
That Thou, who hast dis­cern­ing love,
Shouldst give that gift to me?
There was a place, there was a time,
Whether by night or day,
Thy Spir­it came and left that gift,
And went up­on His way.

How ma­ny hearts Thou mightst have had
More in­no­cent than mine!
How many souls more wor­thy far
Of that sweet touch of Thine!
Ah grace! in­to un­like­li­est hearts
It is thy boast to come,
The glo­ry of thy light to find
In dark­est spots a home.

How will they live, how will they die,
How bear the cross of grief,
Who have not got the light of faith,
The cour­age of belief?
The crowd of cares, the weight­iest cross
Seem tri­fles less than light,
Earth looks so lit­tle and so low,
When faith shines full and bright.

O hap­py, hap­py that I am!
If thou canst be, O faith!
The trea­sure that thou art in life,
What wilt thou be in death?
Thy choice, O God of good­ness! then
I lov­ing­ly adore;
O give me grace to keep Thy grace,
And grace to mer­it more!